The rest of the record of my second term – the Hilary Term in Oxford parlance, the others being Michaelmas and Trinity – introduces many aspects of the whole experience, though reflections on these are perhaps excessively personal. I was glad though to find that I could be modest about my own intellect in comparison with better ones.

The production of Oedipus was of course the high point of the term, and even now I marvel at my luck in having taken part in the top university production of the term (and the year, given the success we enjoyed) in my second term. I was also moved by the references to the brigades of old ladies, the sharp ones at the bridge club who still I gather go on, the gentle ones who tried to make students feel at home, a practice less in evidence now.

Eric was my scout, a lovely man who looked after me with care and affection, producing as I have noted an extra blanket when I needed it. Many years later I went to see him in retirement, which he spent mainly in bed, surrounded by cats. Even in those days the old Oxford scout system was dying, and over the years that followed my rooms were done by women. All, with one exception, were extremely kind and helpful, but I am sorry that the old tradition of male college personal servants, immortalized in so many novels, has died.

(24)

26th February 1972

I’m at the 11th volume of Proust at the moment, unfortunately in English – I’ve been told the translation’s terrible, but the whole effect is marvelous except that at times I wish he’d contain himself. Albertine’s just died and there’s a hundred pages of melancholy reflections. Anyway he’s also helped me to meet someone whom I can look up to intellectually – the first of my own age for I don’t know how long – though it does involve things like wondering helplessly for hours whether heterologic is heterologic if you define it as not heterologic – sheer fascination. I suppose the reason why I’ve found talking till all hours of the morning before this, if interesting, not quite as fascinating as it sounds in Virginia Woolf, was simply this horrible feeling of superiority which, while I know it’s quite unjustified, I can’t help having – considering that on any given essay topic, due to sheer ignorance, I can only think of half as much to say as the other scholars.

‘Oedipus’ has got into the costume stage now and – surprise,surprise – I’m still in it. It’s marvelous watching Oedipus being splattered with blood, Creon swathed in what looks like a bath towel, waiting to take over Oedipus’ velvet cloak, the trim and dainty Jewish Jocasta stamping excitedly on the Chorus’ costume to get it dirty, and the messenger in ancient costume with dark glasses carefully placing sweat, in the form of coffee, on the shepherd’s costume. Unfortunately Teiresias and her carriage together are somewhat heavy but so far I’ve managed to survive till the end of the scene. I’m not going to be balded though, luckily, unlike the other two parts of Teiresias. Continue reading →

The letters home in my second term make clear how I so rapidly absorbed, and was absorbed by, Oxford. But I have also included references to some changes at home, because they indicate the shifts in perspective on someone both deeply sentimental about the past and understanding the need to move on. These start with reflections on the death of my great aunt Ida, elder sister of my grandmother. I had left out my feelings on the death of her brother Leo, which I had heard about while in Denmark the previous August, but this coming so soon marked a decisive break with my childhood. Alone of my family I had spent many happy holidays at the Old Place, the house in Kurunegala where these two stayed, while my grandmother herself had moved to Colombo and its very different perspectives. I should note though that my assumption that the place would be sold was wrong, and Leo’s daughter Lakshmi stayed on there on her own till the late eighties. I was thus able to spend many happy days there even after I came home from Oxford.

Aruna Gooneratne, a great friend in those days, was daughter of our High Commissioner in London, Tilak who with his wife Pam proved most hospitable over the years.

As a footnote, the Russian grandmaster I mention here was Karpov, who soon enough became world champion. My contemporary who defeated him was a chap called Nick Lloyd, who also played bridge brilliantly. But he suffered from depression and commited suicide subsequently.

(28)

28th January

A new craze seems to have struck Oxford and everyone goes running at all times of day in the freezing cold, and night too – needless to say, I shall never succumb to the infection – in fact due to a constitutional inability to run, I’m reducing the number of lectures to manageable proportions – 6 from next week, including 3 with 1 rather interesting character – doing Juvenal, if you know what that means. If not, you’re missing a lot and there’s a translation in my library which is at your disposal.

I did much better in my Greek Collections than I thought – ask if you don’t know what I’m talking about – B++, A—, B+, AB – whatever that means – and also AB for my essay which was, however, called little – not that I mind. Anyway I spend at least 3 hours a day in the library which is very creditable, I think, though I have developed a tendency to drop off repeatedly, though altogether I don’t sleep for more than 10 minutes. However, I have succeeded in getting up by 9 every morning, except, of course, on the morning after the bridge dinner which is an occasion when everyone including the Dean and the Admissions Tutor get drunk and play bridge. I believe I was since I didn’t stop talking from dinner except when weaving precariously to the bathroom but since that was occupied by people being sick – those who made it there, that is – I think I did rather well. Of course, I did go down 1400 one hand and we lost – though, true to form, we did beat the winning team, Dean and all – they weren’t as drunk as they should have been. Besides my partner, who doesn’t get drunk, went down 1700 subsequently, so I don’t feel guilty. Continue reading →